The Biohazard Chronicles
by Flaming Overlord
Summary: Rebecca Chambers didn't think that her first mission would be the nightmare it became. With only a convicted murderer, Billy Cohen, as her only aid, she must fight for survival against creatures who desire her flesh. And thus, the Chronicles begin. *A ongoing Novelization of the Resident Evil series. I do not own Resident Evil/Biohazard. All ownership remains with Capcom.
1. Chapter 1: The Ecliptic Express

Part One

Ground Zero

Chapter One

The Ecliptic Express

The night felt colder than it should have on a July night. A full moon hung in the sky showing below a still Arkley Forest. _It's beautiful_, the man thought, watching the woods from his spot atop a cliff. It seemed not too long ago that he stood here, at the peak of his career, taking in the scenery.

A light breeze disturbed the quiet forest below. _Oh yes_, the young man thought, his black hair kicked up by the wind. Just on time, as usual.

_It's time, my children_, he thought, closing his eyes and raising his arms.

The Ecliptic Express barreled down the track, though the passengers within the train barely took noticed. _Just keep focused, _Jeffery thought as he sat in one of the seats, looking at financial legers. The numbers started to merge, and he edged his fingers under his glasses. After rubbing his eyes, Jeffery took a deep breath and continued reading.

_God, it'll be good to get home._ Not to mention the relief it would be to get out of the suit he wore. A _thump_ hit the roof.

"That's strange," a man said to his wife the next seat over. "I don't remember there to be rain today."

Jeffery could have laughed. The Raccoon City weather woman, though easy on the eyes, couldn't tell the difference between a hurricane and a sunny day. _That's what happens when a medical corporation tries to run a town._ Another _thump _hit the roof, though this one sounded louder than the last. He glanced out the window. Not a drop to be seen.

Something about that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Excuse me," he asked the passing conductor. "How much longer till we reach Raccoon?"

"Oh," the elderly man said, licking his lips as he stared off. The wrinkles around his forehead deepened. "I'd say…maybe another twenty minutes."

"Oh, thank you," Jeffery said. The conductor tipped his hat to him before continuing on his way. _Stop being so paranoid_, he told himself. Two more _thumps_ hit the roof. Jeffery glanced up as though he could see whatever was landing on the train through the second floor. Suddenly, it was as though the roof was assaulted by hale.

"What is that, Harvy," the woman asked her husband, to which he shrugged. Something hit his window. Jeffery's head shot to his right. What look like six leeches—each the size of an apple—attached themselves to the glass. A thick residue clung to the window as their green bodies slid on its surface.

"Wha-," Jeffery said, letting his ledgers fall to the ground. The leeches stomachs opened simultaneously, as then were all one organism, and within was a mouth with several needle like teeth around the maw. Jeffery leapt back with a yell. A scream came from behind him. The woman flung to and fro as several of the parasites clung to her. Other shrieks and cries echoed throughout the train as leeches fell from the ceiling.

Jeffery turned just in time to see the window break. At least twenty leaches fell through, five latching onto Jeffery. He tried to brush them off, but as soon as they clung on, their teeth dug into his flesh. Jeffery cried as he felt his blood flowed from his body as quickly as if he sliced an artery. He thrashed, mind reeling. The discord of the other passengers flailing at the creatures was just a blur. Finally, his vision darkened and Jeffery lumped to the floor.

Screams radiated from the train as it passed just beneath the young man. He smiled.


	2. Chapter 2: Distress in Arklay

Chapter Two

Distress in Arklay

Rebecca sat rigid in her seat, hands gripping the seat. She forced her breathing to remain steady, but it didn't do anything for the rapid beating of her heart. If it weren't for the sound of the helicopter blades, Rebecca was sure that the rest of the team could hear it. Richard nudged her, so that part of his orange vest touched her shoulder.

"Hey," he whispered. "How are you holding out, kid?"

"I'm fine," Rebecca said, doing her best to keep her voice steady. She glanced over to find Richard looking at her with that look—that half smirk and soft eyes. It was the look you gave to a child. Rebecca straightened her back and checked to see if anyone else was listening in. Beside him, Forrest gazed off out his window. In the seat in front of her, Captain Marini and Kenneth stared straight ahead.

"We're all nervous our first mission," Richard said. "Nothing to worry about though."

Rebecca sighed. Richard faced back to the front. _He's just trying to make you feel better_, she thought. _But that's the problem. I don't want handouts. _She turned to the window and watched the Arklay Forest pass beneath them.

Everything seemed to go so fast. It had only been six months earlier that she graduated at the University of Indiana. She remembered her mother's face as she raced down that stage with a masters in chemistry and medicine.

"Your father would be so proud of you," her mother had said.

"I hope so," Rebecca muttered. Granted, she hadn't been thrilled to find out that Rebecca had taken a job with the RPD. Suddenly, the handgun at her hip felt heavier. Though, who would have thought her first mission was to investigate cannibal murders.

_Those pictures_, she thought and cringed. One picture from the briefing stayed with her in particular—it was an infant, no more than three. The little boy's face remained untouched. In fact, it looked as though he were sleeping. However, his shirt was ripped, showing a small chest torn apart. Glossy bone of the little boy's ribs shined against the crimson meat.

Rebecca gulped, pushing the thought to the back of her mind. Her stomach felt as though it were being twisted.

_BANG_!

The helicopter descended too quickly for Rebecca's tastes. Red lights flashed from the consoles as the pilot, Kevin, held onto the controls with a vice grip.

"What's happening?" Captain Marini said, leaning over.

"Engine failure," Kevin said.

The helicopter's rear hit a tree, sending the whole cab into a spiral. Rebecca felt as though she were going to vomit. Her body was warm with adrenaline. _First day_, she thought at the thought of her possible death. _Wouldn't that be ironic?_

The helicopter jolted as it slammed into the ground. Rebecca's stomach felt as though it jumped into her chest, and she had to swallow a few times to make sure no bile came up.

"Unbelievable," Kevin said, his voice muffled by his pilot helmet.

"What's the status," Marini asked.

"I couldn't tell you without getting a look," the pilot said.

Marini's face hardened. Rebecca watched as the captain's lip curled beneath his mustache.

"Right," he said, before turning to the others. "This doesn't change our mission. Everyone move out. Dooley, do what you can to get this thing working."

Kevin nodded. Rebecca, who was closest to the door, swung it open and hopped out. She turned back to see Kevin give her a salute. She gave a small smile and a thumbs up, before closing the helicopter's door.

The grass felt slick beneath her boot, and a low mist covered the ground. Under the eaves of the forest, the area was practically black.

"Check the current position and investigate the surrounding area," the captain said as Rebecca brought up the rear. She drew her handgun, body tense. The night was quiet, and not even a cricket made a sound. Edward edged toward her.

"How're you holding up," he asked, his voice hardly above a whisper.

"I'm fine," she said with a small smile. "Just wish everyone would believe me."

Edward laughed under his breath.

"Yeah, they're like that," he said. "They mean well."

"I know," Rebecca said. "I just don't want anyone to feel like I can't do anything because—"

"You're only eighteen," Edward finished. "Totally understandable. It'll take time, but they'll stop it. Promise." He gave her a little wink and continued on. Rebecca smiled, not knowing that she was doing it until several seconds later.

Something glistened out of the corner of her eye. Rebecca turned to find an overturned van on the edge of a dirt road.

"Captain!" She said, pointing at the vehicle. "Look."

Marini stopped and looked. Even in the dim light, she could see his brow furrow. He shined his light on it, revealing 'MP' in black, bold letters on the side. The windshield was shattered. Two men in green military uniforms lay—one several feet away, while the other lay half out of the van's cab.

Rebecca gasped and ran forward. Her knees slid on the wet grass as she reached over and pressed her fingers to farther man's neck, and then ran to check the other. No pulse on either. Her heart sunk at the realization.

"Court order for transportation," Edward said behind her. Rebecca turned to see him rising with a clipboard in his hands. The back of the board looked darker than it should have been, as though damp. "Prisoner, Billy Coen. Ex-lieutenant, twenty-six years old. Court marshalled and sentenced to death July 22nd. Prisoner is to be transported to the Ragathon Base for execution."

While Edward had been reading, Rebecca stood and walked over to look at the papers on the clipboard. In the top, left hand side of the document was a mug-shot of Coen. His long, dark brown hair was slicked back. His chiseled face looked forward, green eyes pointed directly at the camera. Edward grunted, lip pulling up in a snarl.

"Those poor soldiers," he said as the rest of the team gathered around. "They were good men, just doing their jobs, and that _scum_ murdered them and escaped."

Marini took the clipboard from Edward, taking a moment to glance over it.

"Alright, everyone," the captain said. "Let's separate and survey the area. Our friend is brutal and ruthless. Keep your guard up!"

The rest of the team went their separate ways, leaving Rebecca on her own with a frantic mind. However, she took a deep breath and kept her body from shaking. _Now's not a time to freak out_, she told herself.

She jumped as a bird flew from a branch above her. Maybe her mother was right…maybe she wasn't cut out for this…_No, _she thought, thinking of her father. He never gave up, and neither would she.

What looked like a red wall was visible just past a few trees. Though, as Rebecca drew closer, she found that it wasn't a wall, but a train. It looked as though it had been untouched, as though someone had just parked it there and walked away.

_Didn't even know that there were train tracks out here,_ she thought.

Rebecca looked up at the dark windows of the cabin in front of her. No sign of activity. _Ecliptic Express _was written in curving gold letters on the side. She grabbed the walkie-talkie from her belt and pressed down the button.

"Chambers to Captain Marini," she said. "Do you read?"

Rebecca eyed the train. Coen could be hiding in there…or worse, the murders. Though, there was another question that was bothering her more—_why is there a perfectly good train doing here? _A minute passed, yet no response.

"Chambers to Marini?" she talked into the device again. Again, there was nothing. _I should go back and get someone…_and then they would think that she would always need help. Rebecca straightened her posture-grip tightened on her gun-and walked toward to train cabin's door.


	3. Chapter 3: Dead Train

Chapter Three

Dead Train

"My God," Rebecca muttered. Blood was splattered all over the green velvet seats. Suitcases and purses lay scattered. Papers and clothes from open luggage littered the elegant, gray floor or draped over the side of chairs. However, there were no bodies.

Rebecca froze. _I need to get the others, _she thought. She turned, put her hand on the door's handle, but stopped. It was faint, but she thought she heard someone's voice. _Someone might be alive_.

"Hello?" she said, her voice an octave higher.

Rebecca waited. Among the silence was a low murmuring. The hairs on Rebecca's arms stood. _Come on,_ she told herself. She walked back to the cabin's isle, though it felt as though she fought her tense muscles the entire way.

"Hello," Rebecca said again, but to the same result as before.

She took a few steps toward the door on the left end, which was made of the same dark wood paneling as the rest of the walls. Frosted glass took most of the doors upper half, with the words 'Ecliptic Express' laid over it in gold. As she drew closer, the voice grew louder. She grasped the bronze handle of the door, standing there listening for any sounds.

Rebecca could hear her mother now—_running in without a plan. You're as bad as your Father was. _She yanked. The door slid open. The other side was much the same as the one she had come—in both design and dishevelment. Emergency lights shined over the doors. Rebecca was relieved that there was light, though it made her stomach twist when she saw the long shadows. A stairwell stood to her right.

The voice, which had sounded like a whisper in the other room, filled the whole car. Then there was the smell—that sick, sweet smell of death. Rebecca staggered. _Oh no_, she thought.

"This is officer Chambers from S.T.A.R.S. Bravo team. Please identify yourself," she said, taking a step forward. Two rows of seats in front of her, Rebecca saw that back of a head. There was no answer, just the constant stream of babble. Rebecca walked forward, her limbs shaking. "Is there anyone there?"

Rain tapped on the windows. Rebecca turned to the person—she gasped. A man sat in the seat closest to the window, however he sat slumped back. He wore a gray suit—torn and bloodstained—and his skin had a darker hue. Half of his face had been ripped off, showing the crimson meat beneath the flesh.

Rebecca looked down. A gray radio lay on the seat next to the corpse. She picked it up, turned it off, and then tossed it back onto the seat.

"Oh my god," she muttered. There was no way around it now. She had to get the others. Rebecca shifted to turn, but the corpse rose out of its seat. Rebecca's mouth dropped open. "Sir please sit down," she said, grabbing the medical pack strapped to her side. The man let out a moan. _Unbelievable, _she thought. For the first time that night, she felt good. Finally! She was going to put all those years in school to use! Rebecca could help but smirk.

Two hands clamped around her small arms. At the same time, that sick smell of death hit her harder than before.

"Sir," she said, trying to suppress her gagging. Rebecca looked up at the man. He stood over her by a foot, but all she saw was his eyes. They were completely white—no sign of pain or remorse. No sign of anything at all. Rebecca felt a scream bubbling up from her chest. The man bent forward, its mouth open. Rebecca held the man at bay with her forearm, but the creature bared his teeth at her. She felt the bruises rising from the man's grab.

Rebecca positioned her left leg in between the man's legs. She shoved him to her left with as much strength as she could. The man tumbled down, grip releasing. His head hit the wooden armrest of the seat across from him. There was a loud _crack_ as he fell to the ground.

Rebecca backed away. _Was he…going to bite me?_ The man rose, a gash on his forehead from where he hit the armrest. Black blood dripped down his face. The creature moaned, though it wasn't one of pain. _It's one of hunger. _

She placed a hand over her mouth, and then ran to the door at the end of the car. As soon as the door shut behind her, Rebecca's stomach felt as though it were doing summersaults. She bent over and heaved, but nothing came out. Her limbs shook, but she closed her eyes and took deep breathes. The image of that man still fixed in her mind like a picture. It was as though he were…_dead_. Rebecca felt as though she were about to be sick again.

After several minutes, Rebecca was able to get herself under control. The hall she stood in seemed darker than the one she had just left. On her right were two doors, and rain pounded on a series of windows to her left. Rebecca creaked open one of the doors only to find disheveled bedrooms. She closed it and continued down the corridor. The hall turned right and then left. Rebecca followed the hall to the end, to find a body slumped over on the ground.

Her breathe caught in her throat. She held her weapon aimed at the man, but kneeled over to see if he was really dead. Though the corpse's head was bend forward, she could see a dark hole between his eyes.

"You don't have to worry about him," a voice said behind her. "He's not getting back up."

Rebecca turned. A young man with dark brown hair stood over her, a handgun aimed at her head. His broad shoulders were bare, wearing only a gray tank top. Black, tribal tattoos ran up his muscular, right arm.

"Billy Coen," Rebecca muttered, heart pounding against her chest. _This is just your night_. She thought of raising her own weapon, but when as she stood slowly, looking down the barrel of Coen's gun, the thought lost its appeal. His gun followed her on her ascent, causing the dog tags around his neck to jingle.

"So," he said with a smirk. "You seem to know me. Been fantasizing about me, have you."

Rebecca clinched her left fist, while her right tightened around the handle of her gun.

"You were the prisoner being transported for execution," she said, as though to reaffirm to herself. "You were with those prisoners outside…" _Who you killed._ Rebecca snapped her mouth shut. Now wasn't the time to be cocky.

"Oh," Coen said. "I see. You're with _S.T.A.R.S._" He elongated the last word, as if giving a mock realization. "Well, no offense honey, but your kind doesn't seem to want me around. So, I'm afraid our little chat time is over." With that, Coen lowered his gun and walked back down the hall.

"Wait," Rebecca said, following him. "You're under arrest!"

Billy stopped, turning his head to glance over his shoulder.

"No thanks, doll face," he said, raising his left arm. It was then that Rebecca noticed the handcuff around his wrist, the other dangling. "I've already worn handcuffs."

"I could shoot, you know!" Rebecca said, raising her gun, but Coen ignored her, continuing down the hall. She grunted, taking a step to chase after him, when the window in front of her burst and something jumped through. It took her a moment to realize that it was a person.

"Edward!?"

Edward pressed his back against the wall. His blue vest and black pants were ripped. Blood poured out of his wounds. She slid to her knees before him, grabbing her medical kit.

"God, Edward! What did this to you?!" She said as she withdrew bandages, a package which held a needle and surgical stitching, and another package for a disposable scalpel. Rebecca tore open the scalpel packaging, and cut away at the ripped pant-leg. The wound under looked deep, but not clean like a bullet hole or a slash from a knife. It looked like an animal bite.

She turned to get the antiseptic from her kit, but Edward grabbed her wrist. His blue eyes looked glassy, almost as if he were dazed.

"It's worse than…" he muttered, his face contorting as though each word caused him pain. "We can't…you must be careful, Rebecca. The forest…it's full of zombies and…monsters."

Rebecca froze. _Zombies and Monsters? _That undead man returned to her mind, and she felt the urge to vomit once again. Edward's grip slackened. He took a ragged breath, and his head fell.

"Edward," Rebecca said, taking his shoulders and holding him up. "Edward?!"

Glass rained down on her as another window shattered. The thing that crashed into the hall landed a couple of feet away. _A dog?_ The Doberman turned but chunks of its flesh was gone, revealing the red meat beneath. Glossy rib bones protruded from its side. The dog growled as it stared at Rebecca with pupil-less eyes.

Rebecca's eyes widened as she raised her gun. However, the Doberman leapt at her before she could fire. Its body collided into her, and the handgun flew out of Rebecca's hand. The creature's claws dug into the shoulders of her green shirt as it pinned her to the ground. A low growl came up from its exposed vocals. It opened its maw, saliva dripping, as it bend down for her jugular. Rebecca trashed, looking for something—anything. Her hand grabbed something slender.

Rebecca jammed it into the dog's eye. The disposable scalpel buried into the Doberman's skull halfway up the hilt. It gave a yelp before collapsing on her. Rebecca shoved the corpse off of her.

"Edward," she said, sitting up. "Are you okay?"

Edward remained slumped over.

"Edward?" She reached over and placed two fingers on his carotid artery. No pulse. Rebecca's breath went shallow. No, this couldn't be! She waited for several seconds. _I just need to calm down. Can't find anything like this._ However, after several more seconds, she still couldn't feel a beat.

Rebecca stumbled back, shaking her head. Hardly twenty minutes ago they had been talking in the forest and now…_and now… _Something wet flowed down her cheeks. Rebecca wiped it away, only to realize it was tears. She touched her radio.

"Captain…" Rebecca said, her voice hardly above a whisper. "Edward's gone…I need…I need…"

_I need help…_


	4. Chapter 4: The Leech Man

Chapter Four

The Leech Man

_Poor kid_, Billy thought as he opened a door and exited the corridor. One of the creature's lumbered around aimlessly, its head tilted up as though staring on the ceiling. The zombie's odor intensified as he drew closer. Once the creature spotted Billy, it stumbled over its feet in its attempt to get to him. A streak of dark, dried blood covered the side of its face.

Billy raised his weapon, positioned the crosshairs over the center of the zombie's skull, and fired. The corpse's head snapped back as the bullet connected. Billy waited until the creature fell back before continuing forward.

_She's just going to have to take care of herself_, he thought. The handcuff dangling from his wrist clanked as he ran. Its only purpose now was to serve as a reminder of his lucky escape. _Those poor bastards though, _he thought when he thought about those MPs. Billy shook his head. Not now.

_Remember the plan_, he told himself, opening the door into the next room. _Wait this out until morning, then get on the first flight to Paris…_That was, if he survived until morning. He had seen some things in Africa he still had nightmares about…but this…

_And that girl's on her own. _That look in her eyes—it was one privates under his command used to have—shocked, wide-eyes with a hard, emotionless face. _She's way over her head._

He stood in the dark car, turning back to door he just passed through.

"Damn it, Doll-face," Billy muttered. He grunted, and placed his hand on the handle. "You're a dumbass, Coen." Billy opened the door, and walked back the way he came.

Rebecca sat beside Edward's corpse, trying to collect her thoughts. She leaned her head against the wall, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain. The hall filled with the zombie-dog's stink. Rebecca barely noticed. _Could all of this just be a figment of her imagination? Maybe I'll wake up any minute…_

Things like this just don't happen, right?

_Beep Beep Beep._

Rebecca's eyes widened. She snatched the walkie talkie off her side, almost breaking its clip.

"Hello?!" She said, but then coughed. "I mean, this is Rebecca. Over?"

_Please, answer. Please, God, answer, _she thought. Rebecca clamped her eyes shut, praying that it wasn't a false alarm or the result of her weary psyche.

"Rebecca…can you hear me?" Marini said through a blast of static. Rebecca smiled and gave out a sigh.

"Yes, Captain! I'm here!" She said.

"Where's…location?"

"A train, I'm on a train. Captain, I need hel—back up. I need back up. There are…_things_ on this train. They…got Edward." She stared at the device, waiting for the reply. Only static came through. Rebecca's heart felt as though it stopped beating. "Enrico! Hello? Do you read?"

"Rebecca, I-hear you," his voice came through the walkie talkie. "We've received detailed info-on Coen for a-in the vehicle. He killed-twenty-three people. It's-confirmed he was institutionalized-guard up, Rebecca!"

_Twenty-three people? Institutionalized_. Rebecca shivered when she realized that Coen probably would have shot her without blinking an eye. Then why did he let her go? He knew that she was going to arrest him…or maybe he thought she wasn't a challenge. Color flushed into her cheeks, and her fist tightened.

"Copy, Captain," she replied. Only static came through the speaker. Rebecca waited for several seconds before she put the walkie talkie back onto her belt. _I can't give up. I've got a job to do_. She said. Her limbs still shook as she stood, stepped over the dog's boy, and retrieved her gun.

Edward's slumped figure caught her attention as she passed. _I should do something_, she thought. But what was she to do? He was already…Rebecca snapped her eyes away.

"Goodbye, Edward," she said, and then walked down the hall.

Rebecca steeled herself as she slid open the door leading to the passenger car. _They can't be zombies_, a part of her thought. _They might be sick_. Though, through all of her years studying medicine, she had never heard of an illness that reanimated the dead.

To her surprise, there were no corpses up and running around. The one in the gray shoot she saw early lay in the aisle, blood pouring from its head. Rebecca walked over, using her feet to turn the body over. Blood spewed out of a dime sized hole in the corpse's head. Its white eyes stared up, decaying mouth slack.

Rebecca wanted to bend down and examine the corpse, though images of it lunging up filled her mind. As much as she was repulsed, something intrigued her about the whole situation—_what could have done this?_ She reached into her pack and withdrew a latex glove. After putting it on, she dipped her finger in the pool of blood beside the corpse's head.

"Coagulated," she muttered, rubbing the sticky blood between her fingers. _Definitely dead_…_at least now it is._

The door in front of her slid open. Coen stood in the threshiold. Rebecca raised her gun, and Coen did as well. Her finger tightened over the trigger. However, Coen's aimed his gun over her and shot. Rebecca shifted around. A balding zombie in a brown vest fell back fell back, blood pouring from the fresh wound in his left eye.

"You're a pretty bad cop, you know that," Billy said. Again, Rebecca felt her face flush. She raised her gun at him as she stood.

"You're under—"

"Arrest," Billy cut her off, not bothering to put up his hands. "I know, I know. But you mind reading my Miranda Rights somewhere we won't get eaten." Billy tilted his head. She took a glance behind, making sure to keep her weapon on him. Three other zombies rose from their seats as though awaking from a nap. Their heads snapped to and fro until they saw their only living companions, and then they staggered after the two.

"Fine," Rebecca said.

Billy didn't stop walking until they exited out of the passenger cars, and into a smaller room. Rebecca's boots clacked against the wooden floor as she closed the door behind her. Much like the rest of the train, the walls and floor were made of a dark brown wood. The walls were bare except a couple framed artworks depicting grassy landscapes. A red carpeted stairwell hugged the left wall, and beside it was a meal door, where (from what Billy could see through the door's glass window) a kitchen lay behind.

Billy took a few steps up the stairs, despite the gun Rebecca trained on his back.

"Hold it right there!" She said.

Billy sighed. _Damn, I can already tell this is going to get annoying, _he thought, stopping half way up and leaned on the banister.

"Listen," he said, tucking his handgun in the back of his jeans. "This is going to be dangerous from here on end. Why don't we cooperate?"

Rebecca moved closer to the metal door, looking up at Billy.

"Cooperate with_ you_?" She said with a sneer. Billy's eyes narrowed. _Alright, you little bitch_. But still, he couldn't blame her, considering his track record.

"If you haven't noticed, _little girl_," Billy said, and he couldn't help to feel a tiny bit of satisfaction when she winced. "There are some pretty freaked out things on this train, and I for one wanna get out of here. I don't think we have a chance doing it alone."

Rebecca continued to glare, but she lowered her handgun.

"You expect me to trust _you_, a wanted felon?" she said. "I don't need your help. I can handle this on my own, and don't call me 'little girl.'"

Billy laughed a little bit. From this angle, she looked pretty cute with her tight little green shirt and white vest. The police garb seemed like a complete contradiction when compared to her round face and pixie haircut.

"Alright, Mrs. Do-it-yourself," he said, reaching out to pat her head. Rebecca swatted it away. "What should I call you, then?"

"The name is Rebecca Chambers, but that's _Officer_ Champers to you."

"Well then, _Rebecca_," Billy said, walking back down the stairs. He reached the door, leaned against it, and crossed his arms. "Go play _officer_ upstairs, while I wait here."

He watched as the girl's eyes widened. However, her face hardened and her back straightened. Rebecca walked up a few steps, and then stopped.

"If you're gone when I get back," she said. "I swear I'll shoot you in the kneecaps when I find you."

Billy had to suppress another laugh, so just grunted in reply. As she continued up, he wondered if this was a good idea. Sure, if she did die he wouldn't have to worry about getting away when this was all over. _But…all of this was a whole 'nother level of fucked-up_.

_Cocky prick_, Rebecca thought, ascending the last few stairs. _Who does he think he is?_ Though, he did bring up a good point-The only way to could get through this was together. _Just keep your guard up,_ she told herself.

It took a moment for Rebecca's eyes to adjust when she reached the landing. The only light came from an emergency light beside the stairwell, and the flicker of a flame eating a table cloth toward the back of the room. Small dining tables lined the room. Despite the furniture being slightly askew, nothing seemed out of place. White drapes lined the windows on the room's right side, showing the stormy night with a streak of lightening.

Something gasped. Rebecca aimed her weapon.

"Hello?" she said, squinting. A man sat at the table that was on fire. He wore a green blazer and red necktie, and his head bent down-white hair slicked back. Other than the man's pasty complexion, everything seemed alright. Rebecca walked closer, lowering her gun.

"Are you alright, sir?"

The man didn't reply. Rebecca's arms shook as she remembered the last time she thought someone was alive._ But his chest…looks like it's actually moving. _After all, those zombies didn't breath. _Maybe he's just sleeping?_

"Excuse me, sir," she said, shaking his shoulder. Rebecca yanked her hand back. Stings of white slime cling to her fingers. She wiped it on her pants, though she glanced up when the man's head turned—and fell to the ground.

Rebecca gasped and tumbled back. The decapitated body looked as though it were melting into shiny little creatures. _Are those leeches?_ She thought. _They're the size of my fist!_ The leeches converged in the center of the aisle, the mountain their bodies formed glistened in the dim light. A _squishing _sound came from the creatures as the mount bent back and the bottom divided in two. The mass snapped back up.

It was a man made of leeches. Rebecca's mouth hung open as she examined the creation. Every little detail seemed correct, except for the greenish tent of the skin and the wet sounds it made when it moved. The leech man threw back an arm and flung it at her. The limb extended twice its length. Rebecca dived out of the way-feeling the wind the stretching limb made—hitting her hip into a table cried out. She shot two rounds at the creature, both hitting it in the chest.

The creature didn't even recoil. It swung its arm for another strike when—Rebecca remembered Billy's head shots. She raised her weapon, aimed at the creature's head, and fired. The bullet hit with a wet sound, and its head split down the middle. Rebecca grinned, however her elation evaporated when the leech man dissolved. Little bodies darted toward her. She thrashed as they leapt onto her. They enveloped her, rising above her waist and her breast. Rebecca screamed as they rose over her breasts and she felt their smooth bodies on the skin of her neck.

_BANG! BANG!_

The force of the bullets forced her down, though she didn't feel them pierce her flesh. Three of the leeches exploded once the bullets found their mark, leaving the others stunned. Rebecca wiped the rest off. Their stunned bodies lay curled. The stickiness of the leeches' juices covering her made her cringe.

Billy looked down at Rebecca, who kneeled on the floor, breathing heavily. He took a step forward. Three leeches leapt at him. Billy jumped to the left, pulling his trigger three more times. The creatures exploded like the others before it. He hit the ground, but hardly noticed it. The surviving leeches slunk to the rear of the room, climbed the wall, and exited through a shattered window.

"You okay?" Billy asked as he stood. Rebecca looked up and gave him a thumbs up. Billy smirked. _She may be green around the gills_, he thought. _But she's a fiery one. _He imagined that she might make a good police woman one day…that is, if this whole night didn't put her off.

Rebecca sat for a moment, huffing, before she took a few deep breathes and stood. Her mind felt almost numb. _Am I in shock?_ She thought. Maybe she was just beginning to adapt.

A flash of lightening lit up the room. Billy caught a flash of a figure standing atop a cliff perhaps a mile or two away from the train. The man stood there, arms outstretched. Another strike of lightening hit, and Billy saw the shiny leeches crawling up to the figure's feet. The man's long dark hair covered his face, and his off-white gown looked tattered.

"Who is that guy?" Billy muttered. Rebecca looked up.

"Maybe he's a survive—"

The train shuttered. Rebecca and Billy's knees buckled at the sudden jar. Lights all around the room flickered on. The train rumbled as it gained momentum.

"Who the hell's driving the train?" Billy said.

"Maybe I should check the first car," Rebecca said.

"Alright, let's go."

"I don't know if it's a good idea—"

"Clue in girl!" Billy said. "We gotta start cooperating with each other, or maybe you like being worm bait!"

Rebecca glared at him for a moment. This _did_ make the second time he had saved her tonight. However, Enrico's words still echoed through her head. Was Coen just luring her into a false sense of security? _That makes no sense though_, she thought. He had had every opportunity to kill her (or just let her die, for that matter) if he wanted her dead. Rebecca sighed.

"Alright," she finally said. "But I will shoot you if you try anything funny."

"Fine, fine," Billy said. "Let's get going."

The young man watched as the Ecliptic Express barreled down the track once more. His body ached from the loss of his children. _Those monsters._ Those who had survived the man and woman's onslaught coward at his feet.

_Eat them_, they flung their thoughts at him_. Hurt them._

"Alright, my loves," he said to the leeches before him. The young man closed his eyes. More of his children slumbered in their sacks, hidden deep within the train. He could see them all—in their bubbles-hiding in air ducks, and dark corners in rooms and corridors. The young man showed them what had happened to their siblings. He showed his children the murderers.

Within the Ecliptic Express, the leeches stirred—fueled by anger and hunger.

**Coming Soon**

**Chapter Five: Flight of the Ecliptic Express**


	5. Chapter 5: Derailment Part One

Chapter Five

Derailment Part One

"This is Delta Team, Delta Team. We have gained control of the train. Over?"

"Understood," Wesker said, leaning into the microphone. Beside him, William gazed down shaking his head. He tugged on his red tie—a motion Wesker had seen William do many times when he was stressed.

"This just doesn't make any sense," William said, not for the first time that night. "The countermeasures prepared in the event of a T-Virus leak were bulletproof. How did it contaminate the Arklay facilities, not to mention the train _three miles_—"

Wesker grabbed the microphone.

"That is irrelevant, Birkin," Wesker replied, turning his head to his companion. Despite the sunglasses he wore, he could still see William clearly. His blonde hair covered his forehead, though Wesker could still see the ridges of his furrowed brow. "We must make sure that no knowledge of this gets out."

"Of course," William said, rubbing his forehead. It was then that Wesker realized the dark rings under Birkin's eyes. _You poor fool_, Wesker thought—picturing William slaving all day in the Raccoon facilities only to be dragged here. Birkin even still wore his lab coat.

"Remember the mission," Wesker said. "Reclaim the Research facility and destroy the train."

"Yes, yes," William replied. "I'm surprised Vladimir isn't here breathing down our necks."

"How far are you from the nearest branch line?" Wesker said, taking his hand off the microphone and speaking into it.

"About ten minutes to—huh? "The Delta commander said. Suddenly, the tiny surveillance room erupted as the sounds of screaming and gunfire blared through the speakers.

"What's happening," Wesker said, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. William winced. However, only ten seconds after the cacophony begin, it ended. "Delta team, report!" Wesker said.

"Delta team, report!" Wesker's voice came from walkie-talkie in the Delta commander's slack hand. The black clad soldier lay, twitching from death spasms. A leech climbed out of the broken eyeglass of his gas mask and over his black helmet. Another man, also dressed in full black, lay slumped against the open door to the Ecliptic Express's control room. Several of the creatures clung to both bodies, draining the corpses of blood before it could spoil.

They didn't much care for the humming of the engine to their right, nor the sound of the forest speeding past beside them on the left. However, they nevertheless, did as their queen commanded. So, once many had their fill of the strangers' blood, they collected in between the two bodies. They climbed and clung together. It was almost like a natural process for them by now—the ultimate defense against predators. They knew instinctually the shape to take. Within seconds, the leech mass accumulated-bubbling as the mound rose—defining their shape until they took the form of a man.

Images flickered through their heads as their queen told them how to exact revenge upon their brethren. The leech man took a step. The collective creature staggered, torso leaning back. Its legs wobbled as the train rocked beneath. However, it straightened itself, and took another step forward.

After several seconds, the leech man lumbered into the train's control room. The creature turned its head, as though taking a look at the room with its false eyes. Nothing particular stood out—the only pieces of furniture being an armchair bolted to the ground in front of the controls and a large steel cabinet in the right corner. Rain pelted the windshield. The wipers swiped back and forth, though as fast as they went, they barely helped visibility. Below the windshield stood the controls. A faint, blue glow illuminated the keyboards from the light of the monitor.

_To the controls_, their queen told them. The leeches complied. The creature raised its hand toward the machine. Like its eyes, the leech man's fingers were a façade—unable to spread their fingers apart. Instead, it tapped on the console gently with the tip of its fingers. 'Maximum speed—danger!' flashed across the monitor. The leeches raised a hand and drove it through the screen. The message sizzled but faded to back as the screen shattered. Dead leeches—impaled with shards of glass-dropped away from its arm as it pulled out.

The Ecliptic Express shuttered slightly as it approached to a higher speed.

Miles away, the young man looked down from his cliff. He saw everything his children did, telling them each step.

"That will do," he muttered, opening his eyes. He wished he could stay there to hear the sound of the train's inevitable derailment. _And the screams of the murders within_. The young man glanced down at the shiny bodies surrounding his feet. The leeches crawled up his legs, like a cat wanting affection.

"Come children," he said, turning. "We have far greater business to attend to."

Billy's knees shook.

"Is it just me, or is the train going faster?" He asked.

Rebecca followed, and closed the door behind them. The corridor now looked darker than it had last she was here. She glanced out the window. The forest zipped by, though she couldn't tell the difference. It was as though she could feel the momentum of the train.

"We better get moving," she said, leading the way.

_This is the hall Edward died in._ The thought made her wince. Rebecca took tiny steps, almost afraid of seeing the body again—_or not seeing it._ She turned the corner. Edward lay as he was, head bent and rocking slightly with the shaking of the train. Wind and rain howled through the shattered windows above him.

"Was he from your team?" Billy asked.

"Yeah," she said, her voice low. Her sight never left Edward.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Rebecca gulped, and she finally forced her gaze down the corridor.

"I barely knew him," she said, though her voice broke at the end.

_That's even worse,_ Billy thought. _You'll never know them. _He remembered all the young boys that had been under his command, and how only a percentage of them came back. They had families back home—mothers and girlfriends and lives. Just thinking about it caused Billy to shutter. But, in the end, wasn't that what they all were—stories unspoken?

Billy shook his head, only to find Rebecca standing in front of the door at the end of the hall. _I understand you, Doll Face_, he thought, chasing after her. She wanted to carry on his memory with her—even if she barely knew him-but didn't understand the burden behind it. He knew Rebecca would come to bare it—after all, she was a tough girl. _Be his legacy_.

Rebecca flung open the door. Wind howled through the open threshold, nearly knocking her down. A grated walkway lined the engines, leaving only a steel railing between them and the night on their left. Two bodies lay on the walkway, covered head to toe in black clothing. A glossy, thick liquid dripped from them. Rebecca thought of the leech man. Other than rocking to and fro, the corpses remained still.

"Don't worry," Billy said, stepping in front of her.

"Who said I was worried?" Rebecca said, straightening her posture.

"Whatever you say, Miss Independence," Billy replied, waving his hand as he continued toward the other side of the walkway. Rebecca grunted, but followed him.

"Who were they, you think?" she said as she kneeled beside one, wind nearly stealing her voice.

"Dunno," Billy said, raising his voice. He stood in front of the corpse against the control room threshold. "They look like some kind of stealth operatives, judging by their gear. But it's weird."

"What is?" Rebecca said, standing and joining her companion.

"There's usually some form of identification—a patch, a badge. These guys have nothing."

"Maybe the government knows about this," Rebecca said, though more to herself. Zombies and Leech Men _did_ seem like something that fell under government jurisdiction.

"Yeah, that would be just _wonderful_," Billy muttered. He glanced up into the room. "Shit."

Billy ran into the room, and Rebecca followed. When she entered, he stood over the control console.

"What kind of idiot would break the monitor," Billy said, gesturing toward the shattered screen. Color flushed from Rebecca's face.

"You mean we're—"

"Out of control?" Billy said. "Yeah, at this rate it'll either derail or crash. Not a damn thing can be done if we can't see what we type…unless."

Rebecca followed Billy's gaze to a lever on the far right of the controls. A sticker above it read 'Emergency Break.'

"Hold on," He said. Rebecca looked around, however other than the chair, there wasn't anything to_ hang on_ to. Billy grabbed the lever and pulled down—the lever stuck. "What the hell?!"

"Maybe there's something you have to do," Rebecca said, turning her head to find a manual or anything that could help. She walked over to the steel cabinet and opened it. A couple of extra uniforms hung on a clothes hanger. Below, a double-barrel shotgun sat diagonally—barely small enough to fit within the narrow space. A red, leather-bound book sat on the shelf just above the hanger, along with six walkie-talkies and a case of shotgun shells.

Rebecca grabbed the book. _Ecliptic Express Operator Manuel _was written in gold script across the front. A smirk crossed her face as she rushed back to the control panel. She slammed it onto the control panel and leafed through the pages.

"Come on," she said. The floor shook violently enough to make her knees to shake. Billy leaned in. Finally she came across the article "Emergency Break."

"Automatic shutdown will occur upon engage," Rebecca muttered, eyes flitting over the words. "Rear brake must also be engaged simultaneously."

"Who in the hell built this train?!" Billy said, snatching up the manual to read it for himself. Rebecca's heart beat accelerated. Her body shook, though she wasn't sure if it was her nerves or the rumbling of the train.

"Okay," she said as she took deep breathes. Rebecca walked back to the cabinet and grabbed one of the walkie-talkies. Once she programed it to pick up her channel, she handed to Billy. "I'm going to the rear. I'll radio you when to pull the lever on your end."

Billy nodded. She took a deep breath, and headed toward the open door. There was no way she was ready to travel this train alone. _Don't let fear control you_, she heard her father say. Rebecca raised her chin.

"Hey, Rebecca," Billy said. Rebecca turned, but grimaced. _I know…be careful, stay safe._ She could practically see that patronizing look the rest of the team had given her before in her head. However, when she faced Billy, his face was hard. "Good luck."

Rebecca stood there for a second. Eventually she nodded.

"Thanks."

Billy watched as Rebecca darted back out into the train. _I should have gone_, he thought, but shoved the thought away. _That wouldn't do her any favors. _Besides, if something happened to her…though the thought left a bad taste in his mouth. _Don't be stupid Coen_. _Don't go trusting her_. _Only trust yourself_. Billy clipped the walkie-talkie to his jeans and turned to face the front. He leaned against the control panel, but his body remained tense. It was always that way.

"The side-effects of war," he muttered. Had everything been worth it though? It seemed so long ago he had been that scrawny eighteen year old with an inflated sense of patriotism.

"This is just what I need, Ma," he had told his mother. It would be just the thing to wipe away their problems. Debts would be erased while he would be protecting not only his mother, but his nation.

"HA!" Billy said. How naïve he had been. Just the very thought of his past self made his face flushed. _Here I am, eight years later—Ma died of shame, and me, the 'convicted murder.' _It wasn't until now that he realized his fists were clinched. Billy opened them, wiping his sweaty palms onto his jeans.

Now wasn't the time for that.

_THUMP_.

Billy jumped. His eyes darted up. _It's nothing_, Billy told himself. _Just some leaves or something…just huge fucking leaves. _Billy's hand slid to the gun handle sticking out the back of his pants.

Another _THUMP _rapped on the roof. The car shook beneath the force of it. Billy crouched. The metal roof split open as a giant, ivory pincher rammed through it. When the claw withdrew, it left a hole the size of a tire. Another pincer drove through the metal, staying there for several seconds before wiggling its self out of the crevice.

Billy could only gaze up in mouth-gaping horror, wincing as he fell back hard. _What has claws that fucking big?!_ A pincher wedged back into the hole in which it had created. The roof groaned as the creature on the other side pulled. Billy raised his handgun, but didn't pull the trigger. What if he missed and the bullet ricocheted? _What good is this pee-shooter going to do against _that_, anyway—THE SHOTGUN!_

The groaning of the roof now grew into a screech as the metal took on a curved shape. The creature wedged its other claw into the second crevice. It wasn't going to hold for much longer—_And when it breaks, that bastard is going to be in for one hell of a surprise._

Billy jumped up, tailbone still aching, and dashed to the cabinet. He flung open the steel doors and the shotgun sat just as it had been. Billy turned on the safety to his handgun before tucking it into the back of his jeans. The control room filled with the cacophony of ripping steep, mingled with a sharp, staccato cry. Florescent lighting flickered and died as they were pulled from their circuitry.

Rain pelted Billy as he tried to load the weapon in almost total darkness. He jammed in the last shell and snapped the gun shut. Something wrapped around Billy's torso—something that felt as though were lined with tiny spikes. He gasped at the sudden pain, releasing the shotgun in shock. Before Billy could process what was happening, he was lifted up and out of the gaping roof. The claw released him, leaving him suspended in mid-air, before crashing down on the car's roof several feet away.

Billy gasped for air as he tried to push aside the chill of the rain, the ache of his side from hitting the metal, and the phantom pain left from the pincher's barbs. He glanced down. No blood. Billy pulled at the soaked tank top that clung to him. No wounds-just a line of several little indents across his torso.

A screech made him turn back to the front. A scorpion the side of a bus stood over the control room. Its stinger towered over its body by at least seven feet, poised. Water trailed down the creature's brown exoskeleton as it raised its massive claws and screamed, as though challenging this newcomer.

_Yeah_, Billy thought. _I'm __definitely __gonna need a bigger gun._


	6. Chapter 6: Derailment Part Two

Chapter Six

Derailment Part Two

The door shut behind Rebecca with a resounding _click_. Unlike the previous passenger car, this one was darker than the former and relatively quieter. Rebecca didn't spot any zombies tumbling in the aisle or between the seats. Though there was still that sound—a wet sound.

Rebecca took a step forward, handgun tight within her grasp. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she noticed a body hunched over another in the aisle toward the back of the car. The zombie's head shook as it bent down and bit down on the corpse beneath it.

_Oh my God_, she thought. _They're eating one another!_

Rebecca raised a hand to her mouth, though she wasn't sure if it was to stop the scream bubbling in her the throat or the vomit threatening to rise from her stomach. The zombie froze. Rebecca raised her gun. _Aim for the head, _she thought over and over again. Nevertheless, she couldn't bury the guilt welling within her. This isn't some kind of mutated leech-thing—this used to be a human being.

The creature rose. It wore a bulletproof vest with the S.T.A.R.S. logo stitched onto the back. Rebecca gasped.

"Edward…no…" she said. Her stomach churned, and the threat of vomiting was renewed. Edward turned, arms outstretched. Thick, black blood dripped from mouth and down his front. A gray hue tinted his face, and his eyes were sunk in and white. A low moan came from his gaping maw. "Please," Rebecca said.

Her body shook. Edward stumbled forward, making no sign that he heard her plea, let alone understood it. Rebecca raised her gun again, though the crosshairs kept jumping around.

"No," she said. "Don't come any closer." Still, Edward lumbered forward. He stood a few feet away, so she could smell the sick scent of death cling to him like cologne. Something wet traveled down Rebecca's cheeks. She shut her eyes and fired.

A _BANG _erupted from the firearm. She heard something slump to the flood. Rebecca stood there for a minute—eyes shut, trembling, and gun still raised. Her legs wobbled, and before she could stop herself, Rebecca fell to her knees. The pain of the impact forced her eyes open.

Red. Dark, thick red. It was all Rebecca saw those first few seconds. However, her eyes followed the puddle up to the source—the head in which it drained from.

"I'm s..so…sorry," she muttered through sobs. Her limbs felt too heavy. Everything that had happened that night crashed down, and its weight threatened to crush her. _I just murdered him—_No. It was a mercy killing. However, even with this thought, it was hard for her to swallow. Rebecca could still hear Edward's voice in her head, but it seem to come from a far off place—as though spoken in a time farther past than just an hour or two ago.

The puddle of blood edged itself closer to her knees. Rebecca fell backward.

_I'm not ready for this, _she thought. _Mom was right._

'You're not your father,' she used to say. Rebecca clinched her fists. She grabbed the arm rest of the nearest seat and hoist herself up. Edward's body still filled her vision. She had hardly known him. Did he have family back in Raccoon? Friends? How many will miss him when the team returns? _If we return_…_No, I have to.._.

Rebecca stiffened her back and raised her chin, despite how fragile she felt. She checked her clip. Fourteen more bullets-only one used…She shoved the chamber back into the handgun. The sound of metal against metal was lost under the sound of the rumble of the train.

Rain stung Billy's face. He stood slowly. The scorpion snapped its claw, as though taunting him. Billy's knees remained locked, afraid a movement would incite the creature to attack. The standoff remained for several seconds before the scorpion gave one of its terrible shrieks. It reared its body and charged forward. Billy raised his handgun, firing a round into the creature's flat head.

The bullet hit it square center. Another cry came from the scorpion as it bucked once again, flailing its arms about. Billy's eyes darted to the opening to the control room behind the creature. If only he could sneak past it while it was dazed-however, the scorpion righted its self. It lowered its head and tucked it behind its pinchers. Billy kept firing, however the bullets bounced off the creature's claws.

_Click._ Billy pulled the trigger again, but all that would come from the handgun was the same disheartening _click. _

"Shit," he muttered. The creature darted forward with its claws still protecting its face. It slammed into Billy with enough force to send him flying back and tumbling over the roof. It flew from his hand and clattered across the roof, until it sliding off into the passing forest.

Billy thrashed as he tried to stay on top of the train, legs dangling over the side. His torso ached from the strike, however he tucked the pain away. _No now, _he thought, clawing his way back to the center of the roof. The scorpion howled, raising its pinchers as though in victory. After a minute of crawling, Billy finally lay a decent distance from the edge. He stood, clutching his side. His eyes darted around the creature. There had to be some weakness to it…some way to get past is—

Billy's eyes snapped to the area beneath the creature's body. Between the roof of the car and the underside of the its body, there must have been at least a foot of open space. Billy glanced back at the creature. It still stood with its pinchers covering its face, but its six legs twitched—as though eager to attack once again.

Adrenaline flowed through him, warming his body despite the cold of the storm. Billy gritted his teeth and ran. The rain felt like needles as the droplets hit his bare skin. The creature grew closer and closer. It seemed to know it, for it revealed its face and drew back its left pincher. The claw opened wide. Billy dived. The pincher darted forward, snapping shut just centimeters above his back. Billy hit the metal, and the momentum carried him over the slick roof until he came to rest a few feet behind the scorpion.

The creature turned its body to and fro, looking for its escaped victim. Billy's feet pounded against the roof as he darted toward the opening to the control room. The scorpion gave a howl that echoed in the night air and turned. However, by the time it turned around, he already dropped into the room below.

Billy darted back to the cabinet. The shotgun lay just in front of it. The creature's screech continued as it banged the roof with its legs.

"Billy," a voice said through static. Billy glanced around. There was no one else in the room. "Billy," the voice said again, before he realized that it was Rebecca on the walkie-talkie. He snatched the device off of his waistband.

"I'm a little busy at the moment, Doll face," he said.

"I've disengaged the rear break," she said. "Whenever you're ready."

_Maybe the sudden stop will force it off. _The thought struck him so quickly that it made him stagger. Billy tried to remember if scorpions (let alone one the size of a car) stuck to surfaces. He ran toward the leaver. Just as he drew within arm's reach of it, a shadow passed over the windshield. Billy glanced up just in time. He dove just as thick shards of glass rained down. One of the massive pinchers snapped open and close within the opening. Billy crawled back, shotgun still within his grasp.

The scorpion's claw reached in, extending nearly half of the small room. Its cry filled the room as it struggled to keep its body wedged in the tight space. However, because of the narrow opening, the creature had minimal movement.

_It won't be able to cover its face._ Billy smirked. He took aim and fired. The gun recoiled into his shoulder as the buck shot hit squarely in the creature's flat head. It shrieked once again as the impact blasted it out of its position. However, as it tumbled over the face of the train, it snagged the edge of the shattered windshield. The scorpion's body pounded the train from the outside.

"Coen!" Rebecca's squeaky voice yelled through the walkie-talkie. Billy leapt at the emergency lever and turned it.

The Ecliptic Express rattled down the track. The scorpion continued to hang on. Its body's constant slammed on the side. The wheels bounced up slightly with every hit. Sparks flew from beneath as the emergency break engaged. The tracks split into two paths, and the train continued down the right track.

Not only trees whipped past, but now wooden sentry towers. The Ecliptic Express turned the bend, and there stood the barricaded entrance to a service tunnel. The train crashed through. One last screech carried up into the night as the scorpion hit the side of the tunnel, and its motionless body rolled off into the forest. The wooded barrier wasn't enough to stop the train.

However, the train was only able to travel several more feet. The track ended with a smaller barricade—this one made of steel and braced into the ground. Wheels lift as it hit. With a groan, the front car tipped, bringing it down to its side. The side grinded against the concrete ground for several feet, before it finally came to a rest.


	7. Chapter 7: War in the Shadows

Chapter Seven

War in the Shadows

Smoke filled Billy's chest. His lungs convulsed, throat burning and head reeling. _Well, I've had less graceful awakenings. _His body ached as he sat up. The room spun. Billy had to close his eyes for a few seconds to keep from vomiting. Finally, the dizziness died and he opened his eyes.

An orange glow filled the tunnel with the smells of burning rubber and leaking oil. Grease fires clutched to the sides of the fallen train. Billy raised himself up. Pain radiated through him-not only from the stiff ache of joint trauma, but also from the raw sting of road rash on his arms. He glanced at the wounds. Though they were an angry red, irritation and superficial scratches were all they were.

Billy's neck popped as he rose to full stature. What had once been a beautiful and luxurious train, now lay as a fallen beast.

"Rebecca?" He said, though smoke clogged his vocals. Billy coughed. "Rebecca!?"

"I'm here," she said from behind. The young woman staggered from a side of the overturned train.

"You okay," Billy asked, moving forward stiffly.

"Yeah," Rebecca said. "I'm fine. You?"

"I'll live," he said. Almost simultaneously, they turned toward the train. "Well…we managed to stop the train."

Rebecca glanced over, eyes narrowed.

"Yeah," she said, glaring at Billy. "We _managed_."

"Yeah," Billy scratched his head, handcuff jangling. _You try squashing an insect the size of a minivan _and_ stopping a train at the same time_, he thought, but bit his lip. _Like she would believe me._ "We should get out of here. Smoke's killing me."

Rebecca nodded. Despite her limp, she wore that usual stoic expression. Billy smirked. _You got moxie, kid._ He glanced around the tunnel. A white light shined over a door only a few feet away. Lime green paint peeled off of it, revealing the rusted metal beneath. Billy walked over, Rebecca following. However, they didn't get half a dozen steps before a beeping filled the tunnel. Billy turned, and Rebecca unfastened the walkie talkie on her hip.

"Richard here!" A voice erupted from the device before Rebecca even brought it to her lips. "Rebecca! Where are you?"

Rebecca's face lit up for a moment, but then returned it to her stoic expression.

"I'm not sure," she replied. "It looks like some kind of service tunnel."

"Alright! Have you made contact with any of the others?"

"I…" Rebecca started. Her face fell, and her eyes turned glassy. Rebecca blinked several times. "I've spoken to Enrico…I don't know where his. Edward…he's…he's gone."

Near silence filled the tunnel, only broken by the crackling of the flames.

"Right…" Richard replied. "I'm with Speyer now. There's a mansion out here. We're are going to take a look at it. Rendezvous with us there!"

"Roger that," Rebecca said. She held the walkie talkie for several seconds, as though wanting to say something more, but finally allowed it to drop. Rebecca sighed. She tried the usual 'tough girl' expression, but even Billy could see that it was everything was taking its toll on her. He could see it in her eyes—darker and heavier than when they first met. "Let's get moving."

"Wait," Billy said. He glanced around, and found the shotgun laying a few feet away from where he had awoken. He ran over and picked it up. The metal felt good in his hands—strong, reliable. He opened the weapon. Only one shell.

"You're crazy if you think I'm letting _you_ carry that around," Rebecca said, but her gun remained low.

"And _you're _crazy," Billy said, eyes still on the gun. "If you think that I'm going any farther without any protection. Sorry to say it, Doll Face, but you're a piss-poor shot." He snapped the shotgun shut. Rebecca grunted.

"Fine!" she said, eyes following Billy as he lifted himself back onto the front end of the Ecliptic Express. He climbed through the shattered windshield. Other than the pilot's chair—which lay toppled—everything was bolted and remained where it was. The cabinet hung above him, however its door remained wide open. He jumped up, grab the door, and pulled himself up. Shotgun shells littered the side of the cabinet's upper shelf.

"What are you doing?" Rebecca asked outside.

"Just getting some insurance," he said and grabbed as many shells as possible.

Rebecca waited, tapping her foot. _I'm so stupid,_ she thought as she stared into at the shattered windshield. _Giving a murderer a gun_. Rebecca could smack herself. But, why then did she allow him to have it? Not that she could have taken it away, but something told her that it might be a good idea. _Besides, he did help before_, she thought. Yet, for how much longer?

"Are you done yet?" she asked. Rebecca glanced down at her wristwatch for the third time since he'd been in there. Ten minutes.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, much like the other two times she had asked. The answer made her limb shake. Richard and Forest were somewhere out there—still alive! It would be nice to see a teammate who wasn't—_No!_ She thought, forcing the image of Edward out of her mind, though a little too late. Her body felt heavy. She wanted to cry, but forced it back. 'Crying never did nothing for nobody,' she remembered her dad telling her. 'Buck up and take action.'

"Alright," Billy's voice echoed from the train. The hallow space filled with his grunts and the _tinks_ of him reaching for the opening. He crawled over the side and lumbered out of the wreckage. A sling made of an old shirt hung around his shoulder, jingling with shells.

"You prepared enough?" Rebecca said.

"Yep," Billy said, landing on his feet. "After all, you're going to need a bodyguard."

"Speak for yourself," Rebecca replied. She gestured toward the door.

A rotten stench and the sound of running water were the first things that met them on the other side. Black mold grew on the concrete walls. The floor only ran for a couple of feet before it took a drop down, where murky, green water flowed down the corridor like a river. Rusted grating blocked any entrance to the right side of the corridor.

Rebecca coughed at the smell, however cut it off before she could gag. Billy leaned over the ledge and around the corner.

"There's another ledge at the other end," he said. Rebecca's grimaced.

"Maybe there's another way—"she said, but before she could finish, Billy hopped into the sewage water. His legs disappeared beneath the green depths, stopping at his hips. Rebecca sighed, but jumped into the sewage as well. She nearly gaged as it reached halfway up her abdomen.

The corridor only extended for about a yard, where another rusted grate blocked it off. As Billy had said, another ledge stood on the other end. Water pushed against the back of their leg. Rebecca kept staggering. Her stomach twisted.

_Think of something else_, she thought. Yet everywhere she looked only reminded her of the sewage surrounding her—the gray, moldy walls, the rusted iron grating. Finally, her eyes fell on Billy's tattooed arm. She followed the curves of it—how each inked stroke played with the hard mound of his bicep. The more Rebecca looked at the tattoo, the more she realized that it wasn't a random tribal tattoo. It spelled "Mother love."

"You a fan of Queen?" Rebecca asked.

"Wha—" Billy said, cocking his head around. "Oh, yeah. Love 'em."

"Oh_,"_ Rebecca said. "It's just cool…your tattoo, I mean."

"Thanks," Billy said. "Anyway, you go first." Rebecca glanced over to see the other ledge next to her. She leapt over it. Murky water clung to her clothes like slime. Rebecca grimaced at the stench, and her stomach churned once again as she realized that she would have to walk around with it permeating from her clothing. But she was out. _Thank god._

A sick splash came from behind as Billy climbed up as well, and then walked past her to the metal rings on the far wall. The wall-rings extended for at least quarter of a mile up through a curved opening in the ceiling. Rebecca closed her eyes and gave out a deep breath—barely smelling the sewer stink. They had survived the train. _This is almost over_, she thought.

Billy pushed against the ceiling door once. It gave with a groan, and with a hard thrust of his hand the trap door swung open. Light rained down on the two of them, making Billy squint as he climbed out.

"Woah," Billy said, as his eyes adjusted. Rebecca emerged from the opening, and when she saw the room, her mouth dropped open as well. The two stood in a two-story entrance hall. Light from old fashioned lamp posts reflected off the white and green marble floor. Two suits of armor stood on either end of double doors on the room's west side, and a grand staircase stood across from it. The staircase rose to a mid-level, and then it split into two separate staircases.

Billy wandered around, staring up at the domed ceiling. A crystal chandelier hung from the center, with painted angels playing around it against a blue, cloudy sky.

"Whoever lives here spared no expense," Billy muttered. His gaze travel down to the second floor, where a walkway ran the entire perimeter of the second floor. Square pillars lined the walls, holding the upper level up. Finally, Billy's eyes traveled down. He stood in the center of an octagon-each side was divided into triangles, each one alternating between red and white. "Umbrella Research Center," Billy read the letters under the logo. "Umbrella…like the pharmaceutical company Umbrella? Rebecca?"

Rebecca climbed up the stairs slowly, her eyes focused on a portrait that hung on the wall of the mid-level. An aged painting of an older man glared back. His white hair sat stoic and perfect, much like his suit and tie. Billy's gaze narrowed. _I've seen this guy_, he thought. _But where…_He walked up behind Rebecca, however she continued looking straight ahead.

"What's up?" Billy said.

"I've seen this man before," Rebecca said in a voice hardly above a whisper. "He was the leech thing on the train."

"Who on earth are those people?!" Birkin said, looking at the two on the flickering monitor. He leaned over the console with wide eyes. Wesker didn't even have to touch his companion's hands to know that they were sweaty. _Your nervous habits will get the best of you, William_, Wesker thought.

"She's just a rookie," Wesker said. "A member of S.T.A.R.S."

"And what about the male?" Birkin said.

"I'm unfamiliar with him. However, I doubt he will be of—"

"_Attention!"_ A deep voice echoed through the room. Birkin jumped back, turning his head around to and fro as though it came from someone in the room. Wesker leaned forward, folding his hands and resting his chin on them. No, there was no one in the room. Wesker knew it. There had been no creak of the door opening. Besides, the quality of the voice skipped slightly—as though coming from an old recording. "_This is Dr. James Marcus. Please be silent as we reflect upon our company motto. Obedience breeds discipline, discipline breeds unity, unity breeds power, power is life!"_

"Who would have access to the control room in the research center?!" Birkin said. Wesker ignored him, but conceded the question. He remembered the recording very well from his first tour of the center. _How long ago had that been? Twenty years?_ No—now was not the time for memories. _It might be a glitch—no_, he thought, his mind whirling numbers. _The probability of that occurring would be 0.000000003 percent. _However, before Wesker could think of the matter any farther, the images on all six monitors before him changed to one.

A young man in a white robe gazed back at him with two dark eyes—as though looking through the very camera. Long, brown hair lay on either side of his narrow face.

"Well, well," the young man said. "It has been a long time—Birkin, Wesker."

"Wh—who is that?!" Birkin said. _Body tense. Can practically smell your perspiration in the air. _

"Oh, come now," the young man said as a grin crossed his face. "Surely you must remember us?"

Wesker's brow furrowed. That voice, that face—he had seen both before. _But where?_

"Still nothing?" the young man said. "How disappointing. Here, allow us to jog your memories." The young man closed his eyes, and raised his arms. A mound of something shiny raised into the camera's view. It bubbled and pulsed, as though it were a living mass. Soon, it smoothed and grew definition until it took the form of—

"Dr. Marcus," Birkin said, livid.

"Ah!" the young man said, walking about Marcus-creature. "At last, we have an answer! But you wouldn't have seen this face for a while, have you. Though, you were the last faces he saw."

"Who are you?!" Birkin cried.

"Ah, nothing has changed," the young man said. "Both of you still Spencer's little playthings—Birkin, the frightened little boy, and little Albert, Spencer's puppet."

Wesker lifted his head.

"I am no one's puppet," he said. The young man chuckled. "State your business."

"My business," the young man replied. "Is vengeance on Umbrella. Have you not figured it out yet? It was I who contaminated the train, as well as both of the Arkley facilities. This is only the beginning gentlemen. The Raccoon facility, Antarctica, Sheena and Rockford Island. I know them all. And one by one they will fall."

Wesker watched the mystery men—looking for any slight of movement, any gesture which might betray his identity.

"So, run a little message, will you boys?" the man said, his grin growing painfully wide. "Tell Spencer that soon everyone will know his dirty little secret. Tell him I declare war on him, and on Umbrella."

With that, the monitors skipped and returned to their usual positions. Silence hung in the air between the two men.

"We can't do this," Birkin said. Wesker remained silent. A face…a face was finally coming to mind.

"How," Wesker muttered to himself.

"I'm calling Vladimir. This is beyond either of us, Albert."

Wesker remained silent, working through all the possible outcomes that this event—this man—could produce. _If it is, indeed, him. _All came to a similar end point.

"Indeed," Wesker finally said.


End file.
